


Deanitis

by violue



Series: The Spirit of Lawrence High Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mentions of Bottom Castiel, Spooky Ghost Fingers, mentions of Anxiety/Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel goes on a trip, and Dean misses him. A lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deanitis

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Casfucker](http://casfucker.tumblr.com), which means you can blame her for all my mistakes. :D

Castiel graduates in the middle of May, and Dean is of course invited. He stands with Castiel’s family, waving and cheering as Castiel steps onto the stage to receive his diploma. Principal Drummond spots Dean partway through the ceremony and gives him the hairy eyeball _six_ times throughout the course of the evening. Dean supposes she’s still mad at him for throwing a party in her school after hours and then bleeding all over the bleachers.

If only she knew that Dean was the one who caused thousands of dollars in damage to the library in a fit of ghost rage last winter.

When she glares at him a seventh time Dean waves, blowing her a kiss as her glare morphs into an outright scowl. What’s she going to do, give him detention? Dean has graduated already, he’s spent seven months as a spirit, _and_ last week he had lunch with Castiel and Castiel’s extremely invasive and bubbly mother. After all that, Principal Naomi Drummond and her crisp grey pant suits don’t seem so intimidating.

The ceremony ends, and Dean watches as Castiel congregates with his friends for a few minutes, then comes running over to where Dean is gathered with the Shurley family, grinning wide.

“I’m ready to go for dinner if you guys are,” Castiel says cheerfully.

“Really? I thought for sure you were going to try to get out of dinner so you could go skitter off with your study buddies and party,” Gabriel says.

Castiel shakes his head. “Balthazar is our party guy, and his parents would set him on fire before they let him have another party in their house. We’re meeting up tomorrow, though.”

“ _No_ graduation party? But they’re awesome! Right, Dean?” Gabriel says like he’s being clever.

“Gabriel!” Becky shrieks, slapping her son over the back of the head with her graduation program. “Of all the things to joke about. Don’t listen to him, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s cool.” It’s actually not cool. It’s just about the anniversary of the day Dean literally fell into a coma, and he really doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Becky points a threatening finger at Gabriel. “One more joke about Dean’s incident and you’re not getting dessert!”

“I’m twenty-five years old, you can’t—”

“Your father and I are paying for dinner, so I think I _can_.”

Gabriel slumps. “Yes, Ma.”

“Good. Now, let’s go get some food!” Becky says, leading them through the throng of people.

Anna jabs Gabriel in the ribs, grinning. “Wow, dressed down by your mom in front of _everyone,_ you must be so embarrassed.”

“I hate you,” Gabriel hisses.

  


***

  


They make their way to Glory Days Pizza, Anna riding with Chuck and Becky, while Dean and Castiel make out in the backseat of Gabriel’s car, ignoring Gabriel as he loudly sings along to Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off”.

  


***

  


“So, Castiel… your mother and I have kind of a special graduation present for you,” Chuck says, looking giddy. Castiel sets his second slice of pizza down, smiling at his father. “Well, I know your job at the Gas-N-Sip doesn’t start for two more weeks, soooo…” Becky does a little drumroll on the table top and Chuck flashes her a grin. “Instead of bringing your mom on my next research trip, I’m bringing you! We leave tomorrow for fourteen days!”

Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach. Not only have he and Castiel not been apart longer than two _days_ since Dean got his memories back, they also had very important plans to spend a few days locked in a cheap motel room with nothing but a box of energy bars and a large bottle of lube. Not the most sophisticated plan, but Castiel has some money saved, and they’ve both been jonesing for some quality alone time. That plan has just flown out the window.

“W-wow, a road trip?” Castiel sputters, taken aback. “Just the two of us?”

Dean knows Castiel wants to be a writer like his father, and he knows Castiel’s always wanted to go on one of Chuck’s trips, so when Castiel casts a panicked glance Dean’s way, Dean just smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

“That sounds wonderful, Father, thank you.”

Chuck is beaming. “It’s gonna be great! Two Shurley men, out on the open road, chasing down leads, immersing ourselves in lore!”

From what Castiel has told Dean, these excursions often involve a lot of chatting up strangers in small towns, getting the low down on local lore. Usually, the talking stuff falls upon Becky, who is much, _much_ more social and talkative than Chuck. Chuck, like Castiel, isn’t all that great with new people. Dean can’t help but wonder who’s going to be doing all the talking on this trip.

As Castiel and Chuck excitedly talk plans for their trip between bites of pizza, Dean smiles fondly. He’s going to miss Castiel a hell of a lot, but he’s happy for him.

  


****

  


Dean’s stretched out on his ridiculously comfortable bed, reading The Fellowship of the Ring when his phone goes off.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Did you tell your friends that you have to cancel on tomorrow?”

“Oh… yes. They were very understanding. No one’s leaving for school just yet, so there will still be time to see them after I’m back. Balthazar demanded I bring him a souvenir, though.”

“Of course he did.”

Dean’s only officially met Castiel’s friends a few times, when he tagged along to some of Castiel’s study sessions. They were friendly, and _very_ curious about the boyfriend Castiel suddenly showed up with. Dean, of course, already knew them; their boring study sessions were his only source of entertainment last summer, and Balthazar was someone Dean had met a few times when he dated his sister Bela. Balthazar was also the least friendly to Dean, and Dean thinks it’s because he gets to fuck Castiel and Balthazar doesn’t.

Who knows, though.

“You should get him a lump of coal,” Dean adds.

Castiel chuckles. “I’ll consider it. I’m uh… I wanted to know how you were feeling about my trip. We didn’t get to talk about it or anything.”

“I’m happy for you, Cas. I bet you’re gonna learn loads of lore and book writing stuff.”

“I was um… please don’t find this insulting, but I was worried you might be… lonely without me. I know that you don’t have… um…”

“What, friends?”

“No, I was going to say close, _local_ friends.”

Dean sighs. It’s true. He has friends… _good_ friends, but not one of them is in Lawrence. Most of them will be back for the summer once June rolls around, but… that’s June. Right now he pretty much has Sam and Castiel, which was perfectly fine until tonight.

“I have Sammy,” Dean says, “I’m gonna be fine.”

“I’m just concerned… having social interaction is important for depression.”

“Woah, woah, who’s _depressed_?”

“You?”

“I’m not depressed, Cas. I’m just adjusting. All that shit I remembered packed a wallop is all, I feel better every week.”

“Regardless, you are currently in a state of depression, and… perhaps this isn’t the time for me to be leaving you.”

What Castiel’s saying is probably true, but… something is occurring to Dean. “Holy shit. You don’t _want_ to leave me. You’re looking for an out.” There’s a heavy silence. Ha, Dean’s right. “No, Cas. I already let you put off college for a year.”

“ _Let_ is a strong word…”

“You’re not skipping out on something I _know_ you want to do and then saying it’s because you’re worried about my poor hurt bunny feelings.”

“But—”

“But nothing. If I’m lonely, then I’m lonely. It’s two weeks.”

Castiel sighs. “I suppose you’re right.”

“It’s going to be fine, Cas. Maybe by the time you’re back you’ll be ready to write your first novel.”

“Love you, Dean.”

“Love you right back, Cas.”

  


***

  


Dean wants to see Castiel off, but since Chuck is planning to blow town at six in the morning on a Saturday, that’s not going to happen. Things would be different if Dean could drive his damn car. Hopefully someday he’ll be road ready again, but for now it’s too risky. There are still days when Dean just zones out in the middle of a task, and that makes him someone that shouldn’t be driving.

By the time Dean wakes up for the day it’s ten, and Castiel has been gone for four hours already. There are a ton of texts waiting on Dean’s phone.

 **RECEIVED 6:13am** \- We’re on the open road. I’m so tired.

 **RECEIVED 6:34am** \- I know it’s been less than 12 hours since I last saw you, but I miss you.

 **RECEIVED 6:49am** \- My father has revealed that we’re headed to New Mexico, to hear about a wendigo legend from people who swear they’ve seen one.

 **RECEIVED 6:51am** \- My father hopes we’ll find something real. Apparently he has a death wish.

 **RECEIVED 7:21am** \- I don’t know if I told you this, but this trip is for his “spooky” travel blog, not one of his books.

 **RECEIVED 7:22am** \- Unless he gets inspired to write a wendigo book.

 **RECEIVED 8:11am** \- Evidently, the place we’re on our way to has “limited” cell reception.

 **RECEIVED 8:13am** \- I think my father waited until we were halfway out of the state to tell me so I didn’t flee home at the news.

 **RECEIVED 8:16am** \- I will call you from our motel, though, so be sure to answer calls from strange numbers.

 **RECEIVED 9:40am** \- I bet you’re just happily snoozing away Dean, while I’ve been up since FIVE.

The news that he won’t be in constant contact with Castiel is a downer, but Dean enjoys the surly texts all the same.

  


***

  


**RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- We’re lost.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- I swear he did this on purpose.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- He wants this to be an adventure, I’m sure of it.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- I’m going to die on this trip.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- I regret not having you one last time.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- I suppose I shouldn’t send sexually suggestive texts while my father is in the car with me.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- He might ask what I’m texting about.

 **RECEIVED 4:13pm** \- damn are these even sending

Dean snorts. Either Castiel can type really, really fast, or these were all sent sometime since Castiel’s last text this morning and are just now reaching Dean’s phone.

 **SENT 4:18pm** \- Are you alive?

 **RECEIVED 4:20pm** \- My father’s desire to make road trips more cinematic by taking back roads is causing difficulties.

 **RECEIVED 4:21pm** \- It didn’t seem like a big deal when my mother was the one being subjected to this.

 **RECEIVED 4:21pm** \- I’ve made a horrible mistake.

 **SENT 4:23pm** \- Is he having a good time?

 **RECEIVED 4:27pm** \- He’s having a blast.

 **SENT 4:28pm** \- And you?

 **RECEIVED 5:01pm** \- Work in progress.

  


***

  


Dean’s getting ready for bed when he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“ _Dean._ ” Castiel sounds so relieved _._

“Hey, you made it! How’s New Mexico?”

“Well, my father is thrilled. This motel is terrible. Run down, definitely no cell service. I don’t even know the name of this place.”

There’s a loud, grinding sound in the background that Dean is having trouble placing. “What’s that noise?”

“My father,” Castiel growls.

“Is that _snoring_?!”

“Yes. At home he uses those strips that open up his nasal passage and significantly reduce the sound. He forgot to bring them. He also planned to get me my own room, but there was only one free room in the motel tonight. With a single queen-sized bed.”

Dean’s trying not to laugh. He’s really trying. “You’re uh… sharing a bed with your dad?”

“I was. Now I’m in the bathtub with a pillow, a blanket, and this cordless phone, wishing I had earplugs.”

“If you had earplugs, you wouldn’t be able to hear me.”

“ _Listen to this._ ” There’s a shuffling sound, then a click, and suddenly the sound is amplified ten fold. It sounds exactly like Bobby’s woodchipper. After a moment there’s a click, and the sound is muffled again. “Get me out of here,” Castiel begs.

“Come on, Cas! Trip like this builds character!”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Dean says, pouting even though there’s no one to see it. “Come on, tell me about the drive up.”

  


***

  


Since Dean woke up in December, he’s had a lot of leisure time. Way, way too much leisure time. In the summers before his coma, Dean was usually busy with his friends or part time jobs. Bussing tables at The Roadhouse, doing stock at his dad’s auto parts store, fixing cars with Bobby. And when it wasn’t summer, Dean was in school, doing passable work and going on dates.

Now he’s just… at home. His friends are all off at college (or “doing military shit” in Benny’s case), he has no school work, and none of his usual part time jobs will take him because they’re all family, and they all think Dean should continue to “take it easy”, like Dean can’t handle working or something.

Okay, so maybe Dean’s reflexes are still sometimes a bit on the slow side. And yes, maybe his legs still give out on him once in awhile. And _perhaps_ Dean has developed some kind of anxiety disorder since recovering his memories of being a ghost. He can still clean a table or change a tire, for fuck’s sake.

But no. Dean’s “taking it easy”, so he’s been watching Sam do homework, or cuddling up with Castiel to watch action movies, or helping his mom make dinner. And he reads. Dean’s read more books in the past five months than all the other months of his life combined. He’s reread all of his Vonnegut and Harry Potter books, all of John’s true crime novels, all of Mary’s mysteries, all of the books Castiel’s father wrote, and now he’s been pilfering books from Sam, which is how he ended up with the well-worn copy of The Return of the King that he’s just about done with.

Dean needs a fucking break from reading.

It’s Thursday afternoon, Castiel’s been gone five days, and the house is on the empty side. John’s out doing Dad Stuff, Sam’s out doing Sam Stuff, and Mary is… in Dean’s doorway, smiling at him. How long has she been there?

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, kiddo. Want to help me make some cupcakes?”

Baking is often how Mary deals with downtime. She bakes up a storm, takes the results to The Roadhouse, and she and Ellen split the money made from bar folks who can’t resist homemade desserts.

Dean marks his page with the rainbow unicorn bookmark he found in a junk drawer and gets out of bed, following his mom to the kitchen. Mary has recipe cards out for two different kinds of cupcakes, and a pile of ingredients still in plastic bags from the grocery store.

“You’ve been getting pretty good in the kitchen, you know.”

“I have?”

Mary smiles warmly.”You haven’t noticed? You’re very good at following recipes now, you pay better attention to your ingredients than you did in the past… lots of improvements.”

Dean beams at his mother, can’t do anything but. When he was little he loved helping his mom in the kitchen, but that happened less and less as he got older. It’s been nice, helping her pick recipes at dinner time, dicing ingredients, minding the stove. One of the few times lately when Dean feels _useful_.

“I was thinking… maybe you could do most of the work this time? We can split my take from The Roadhouse. It’s not much, but…”

Dean sighs. “Mom, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Entertain me.”

“Oh, honey… is it so hard to believe a mother just wants to spend time with her boy?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, but you don’t have to worry or anything… I’m okay.”

“I’m sure you are, kiddo, but I still want to see your baking chops.”

Dean nods and starts pulling things out of the grocery bags while Mary sits at the kitchen table, a small, pleased smile on her face. Dean retrieves all the tools and appliances he’ll need, setting them on the counter, making sure they’re clean. Then he looks over the ingredients set out, making sure everything on the recipe cards is present, like Mary always does.

He frowns, turning to his mother. “You didn’t get cupcake liners.”

Mary grins, retrieving them from where she apparently stashed them under the sink. She hands the package to Dean, ruffling his hair before she sits back down. “Good job, kiddo.”

For a while, Dean works in silence. Just having Mary in the room with him fills him with that happy, safe feeling he mostly associates with childhood; different from the happy, safe feeling he has with Castiel, but still enough to make him feel at peace.

He’s just finished blending the dry and wet ingredients for the carrot cake cupcakes when Mary speaks. “So… I talked to Sam a few days ago.”

Dean freezes. Did Sam tell their _mother_ about the ghost thing? Dean’s going to put Nair in Sam’s shampoo, and itching powder in his underwear drawer, and tell all his friends about how he used to wear their mother’s—

“He said you were thinking about moving out next year, with Castiel?”

Oh. That. Okay, that’s not so bad.

The timer for the oven’s preheat mode goes off, and Dean starts lining the cupcake pan with pastel colored liners. “It’s uh… it’s a plan. Kind of. Cas is going to work for the year, save up some money. His parents have a college fund for him, but that’s all for like tuition and book money. So he’s working to save cash. That’s why I wanted to be working. But Cas is sure that by the time we need more money, I’ll have a job…”

“It’s okay to have help, you know,” Mary says gently. “There’s no rule that says you have to have everything together at a certain age. Not in this house.”

“I know, I just… I want to contribute to… to this _life_ we’re planning.” Dean sighs, staring down at the cupcake pan. This is what was on his mind before he heard Tessa scream, before he ran into that gym and his whole world got turned upside-down. This feeling like he’s going nowhere and has nothing to offer. It’s a little worse now, because he wants to be something for himself _and_ this person he loves. He wants to feel worthy of Castiel’s adoration, he wants to have more to offer Castiel than his damn love, he wants to provide. Or… co-provide. Something like that.

“You’re nineteen, honey, and whether you want to be or not, you’re in recovery. You need to learn to be okay with that in the meantime. Things will get better. Dr. Abner is always saying how impressive your recovery has been.”

“It _was_ impressive. Now it feels slow. I hate it. I’m better, I know I’m better. Just not enough. The family won’t hire me, and I think they’d all freak out if I tried to find a job elsewhere. So I’m just… taking it easy like everyone said I should.”

“There’s still plenty you can do.”

“I read,” Dean grumbles, portioning out the batter.

“I meant beyond reading.”

“I also play games on my phone to improve my reaction time and focus.”

Mary sighs. “I meant things like this.”

“What, baking?”

“You _like_ cooking.”

“With you.”

Mary drums her fingers on the table, eyebrows raised.

Dean groans. “Fine, I like cooking.”

“Have you thought about… cooking classes?”

“Mom…”

“Now hear me out. They have cooking classes at The Merc Co-op. They’re cheap, they’re low commitment, they have several every month, and Sam can drive you.”

“ _Mom._ ”

“You’ll be getting out of the house, interacting with people, flexing your mind muscles…”

“Until I forget where I am for two minutes, stare off into space, and burn the place down.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Your… ‘brain farts’ as Sam calls them… aren’t that bad.”

“Enough to keep me from driving.”

“ _For now,_ and cooking isn’t driving. I haven’t seen you space out while cooking once. You stay focused.”

“Mom, I don’t—”

“Just think about it, alright? There’s a few classes every week, they’re listed on The Merc’s website, as long as you let us know a day or so in advance, we can register you for some.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

“Just remember this isn’t a big deal, okay? This isn’t a credit class, where you have to pay tuition and book fees and go every week and get graded… these are just one off little workshops where you learn a meal.”

“You sure put a lot of thought into this.”

“Well, I ran into Castiel’s brother the other day, and…”

“Aww, Mom, _Gabriel_?!”

“He’s a very nice young man…”

  


***

  


“So, what’s up?”

“We’re going camping tomorrow.”

“Do you uh… camp often?”

“ _No._ ”

“I see.”

Castiel sighs, irritation pulsing out of Dean’s phone. “He’s decided we need to ‘experience the land’ after talking to the owner of this motel. We’re borrowing this man’s _used_ camping equipment so we can go out and die together in the woods of New Mexico.”

“Are you worried about wendigos?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are _real_ animals out there, and if we’re out in the woods I won’t even be able to call you.”

“So, tell your dad you’re scared!”

“I’m not _scared_.”

“You just said—”

“Tell me about your day.”

“I read more Lord of the Rings and baked cupcakes with my mom.”

“What kind of cupcakes?”

“One batch of carrot cake cupcakes, and one batch of chocolate coconut. Took most of them to Ellen’s.”

“Did you save me any?”

“I’m not going to feed you week-old cupcakes. I’ll make you something fresh when you get back. What do you like?”

“Anything, really. Just no licorice.”

“Aw… I wanted to make you my famous licorice pie.”

“I’m going to assume that’s sarcasm.”

“It is. So, um… my mom wants me to take cooking classes at The Merc.”

“Really?”

“She ran into stupid Gabriel and he put the idea in her head.”

“Ah, yes… Gabriel teaches a class there on making pizza from scratch once a month.”

“God, guess I know which class I’m _not_ taking.”

“So you’re going to take classes?”

“No, I… I’m considering it.”

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea. I find I rarely have the patience for cooking.”

“Well… I do like the idea of cooking for you. In our future apartment somewhere in the contiguous forty-eight states. You can be the only guy in your class with a house-husband.”

“As appealing as that sounds, I doubt you would find such an arrangement enjoyable in the long term.”

“Yeah… I think whatever shoebox apartment we end up in won’t need much in the way of… house husbandry. Hopefully I’ll have a job by then.”

“Mhmm.”

“You falling asleep, Cas?”

“Your fault for having such a pleasing voice.”

“Damn me.”

  


***

  


Dean has an odd dream that night. He’s in an unfamiliar room. It’s hard to make out too much, the only light source is the moonlight peeking through the curtains. There’s a bed in the center, that much Dean can see, some kind of floral pattern on the comforter covering a sleeping Castiel and his father. Castiel is on the right side of the bed, lying on his stomach with his arm dangling over the edge, while Chuck is on his back, mouth wide open, the Breathe Right strip on his nose keeping him fairly quiet.

Castiel looks mostly peaceful, brow slightly furrowed in sleep, breaths steady and slow. He looks beautiful like this, and Dean stands there, watching him sleep, smiling to himself. He feels at peace.

  


***

  


He feels pretty good when he wakes, but he still misses Castiel.

  


***

  


“I saw Gabriel at the mall today.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, he’s everywhere.”

It’s Friday. John and Mary are out having date night, so Dean’s making dinner for himself and for Sam. Macaroni and cheese with bacon, oregano, garlic, and lots of shredded cheese. It’s almost done, and it smells amazing. Judging by the way Sam is hovering near the stove, he likes the smell too.

“He told me about these classes…”

“Oh, Jesus. Look, I know about the classes at The Merc, he talked to _Mom_ yesterday, and I think she filled him in on my waywardness and how I like helping to cook, and… I have no idea why he told you about the classes.”

“He said we should come to his pizza class. He’ll teach us for free!”

“It’s Gabriel.”

“I’ve only met him a couple of times, but he seems nice.”

“He’s annoying.”

“I think he wants to help you because Cas loves you so much, and Gabriel likes to look out for Cas. Like you look out for me.”

“I never stalked your girlfriend’s family to talk her into cooking classes.” Dean pauses in opening the cabinet for bowls, turning to Sam with narrowed eyes. “You already told him we’d go to his class, didn’t you?”

“It’s going to be fun, Dean! It’s not even until next month!”

“Next month Charlie, Ash, Jo, Garth, and Vic will all be back and I won’t need _busy work,”_ Dean growls, pulling the bowls out.

“It’s not busy work, it’s learning for fun.”

“Mom suggested the other classes so I’d have something to do. That’s busy work.”

“Well you’re bored and unhappy, Dean!”

“Give me a break, Sam, I told Mom I’d think about it.”

Sam sighs, taking forks out of a drawer. “You don’t want to be around that many people at once, huh.”

Dean hangs his head. “Crowds make me feel… they make me think about what it was like being surrounded by people that couldn’t see me.”

“You have social anxiety.”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Dean says with a shrug.

“You keep talking about how you’re getting better with all the… recovered memories and ghost stuff.”

Dean starts piling food into the bowls. “I _am_.”

“Well, exposure to people will help.”

“Ugh, Sam.”

“You keep talking about wanting to go back to work, Dean. What if you’re bussing tables at The Roadhouse and a group of thirty people comes in?!”

“A group of thirty people showing up all at once. At The Roadhouse. Well, I guess in that unlikely event I’d go into the damn fetal position on the floor, wouldn’t I?”

“Dean.”

“Stop harping about the damn classes, I’ll probably do it. I just… I’m thinking about it, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I just got excited…”

“I know, Sammy, it’s okay… I don’t know why I’m being so…”

“Defensive? Stubborn?”

Dean glares. “Go sit down so I can serve you your damn dinner.”

  


***

  


Dean dreams about Castiel again.

This time he’s in a wooded area, looking at two tents next to a snuffed out fire pit. He can’t see much, once again his only source of light is the moon, but both tents are glowing faintly from within. He walks up to the first tent and reaches out to touch it. His hand goes through it, so he peeks his head through the tent wall and looks inside.

It’s Castiel’s father, mouth wide open, Breathe Right strip on his nose again, zonked out on top of a sleeping bag. The glow Dean saw from outside is a small circular LED light sitting on the floor in a corner of the tent. Dean watches him for all of a few seconds before moving away to check the other tent.

His hand doesn’t go through the second tent when he touches it. Puzzled, Dean drags his hand along the fabric, watching it shift under his fingertips. He can’t really feel it. It reminds Dean of being a ghost, but when Dean looks down at himself, he’s not in the clothes he wore for seven months as a spirit, he’s in the light blue sleep pants and white t-shirt he went to sleep in.

His hand goes to the zipper on the front of the tent and he pulls it, arm moving in a slow arc as he unzips the tent’s “door”. Castiel is inside, sleeping half on his sleeping bag, half on the floor of the tent, limbs sprawled out as far as they’ll go, just like his father. Dean steps into the tent, zipping the flap closed behind him. The tent’s not all that big, but two people can fit inside with no problem. There’s another LED light in the corner of the tent unoccupied by Castiel’s limbs and Dean sits next to it, smiling as he watches Castiel sleep.

Once again, Dean feels at peace.

A few minutes pass before Castiel shifts in his sleep, and his foot brushes against Dean’s leg. The contact causes Castiel to stir, and he slowly blinks awake, eyes eventually focusing on Dean.

“Dean…” Castiel mutters sleepily.

Dean smiles. “Love you.”

Castiel’s eyes pop open all the way and he sits up, staring at Dean in alarm. “Dean!” He reaches out, touching Dean’s bare foot. Dean can kind of feel it, kind of not. “How did you… you’re not wearing _shoes,_ how did you find me?”

“What? I didn’t find you. I’m just here.”

Castiel shakes his head a few times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “How did you get here?”

“What, your tent?”

“No, _here._ ”

“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. I mean… I’m guessing this is New Mexico.”

Castiel furrows his brow. “If you don’t know where you are, how did you drive here?”

“I didn’t drive here. I don’t drive, remember?”

“Who brought you here?”

“Dude, no one _brought me here_ , I’m just here. This is a weird dream,” Dean mumbles.

Castiel blinks several times. “You… do you think you’re dreaming?”

“I mean I guess?” Dean says, confused. “But… do dreamers usually know they’re dreaming?”

“I don’t think so. Why do you think this is a dream, Dean?”

“Uh… because I just went to bed… and now I’m in the woods… and my body went through your dad’s tent… that’s dream stuff.”

“Your body went…” Castiel crawls forward and grabs Dean’s hand. “Can you feel this?”

“A little.”

“Dean… are you sure…” Castiel looks freaked out and Dean is so confused. “Did something happen to you?”

“No?”

“You aren’t hurt? Or d-dead?”

“What are you talking about? No, I’m not _dead,_ Cas.”

Castiel grabs both of Dean’s arms. “Dean, are you _sure_ you’re alive?”

“Is this some sort of existential thing?”

“ _No,_ Dean, I need you to wake up.”

“I can’t just end a dream.”

“This isn’t a dream, Dean.”

“You just told me to wake up, so I think this is a dream.”

“Okay, fine. Fine, this is a dream, and you need to wake up.”

“Cas…”

“WAKE UP!!”

  


***

  


Dean snaps awake, heart pounding. What the fuck was _that_?

He’s never had a dream like that, where he knew he was dreaming, where someone told him to wake up. It sounds like something he’d read on a creepy message board late at night. This dream wouldn’t bother Dean so much, but… Castiel had looked so fucking scared. It felt… real.

Dean takes a few deep breaths, letting his eyes fall closed again. He can worry about strange existential dreams later, he’s fucking exhausted.

  


***

  


He’s not asleep all that long when his phone starts ringing. He groans and rolls over, groping around with his eyes closed until he finds his phone on the end table by his bed, then holds it in front of his face and opens his eyes. Fuck, that’s bright.

Dean’s surprised to see a photo of Castiel in his graduation cap and gown beaming at him. How fucking weird that Castiel would call after the dream he had earlier.

“Cas?” Dean says, still groggy. “I thought you were camping?”

“Oh thank _God,_ ” Castiel says, sounding wrecked.

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I made my father drive me until we found a cell signal. Dean, are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine… I mean a little lonely… had kind of a weird dream about you earlier, and—”

“That wasn’t a _dream,_ Dean!”

“What?”

“Dean, you were in my tent less than an hour ago.”

“That… was my dream.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that was not a dream?! You were there! I thought you were in another coma, or… or… I thought you _died,_ Dean.”

“Cas, I don’t… that doesn’t make any sense. I was just asleep, I’m fine. Talking and everything. It did feel real, though… and last night…”

“Last night what?”

“I had a dream about you last night too.”

“Describe it.”

“There wasn’t much to it. You and your dad sleeping under a flowery bedspread. Your dad had a Breathe Right strip on his nose. I watched you sleep for a while, and that was it.”

“Dean…”

“So that was real, then.”

“Considering our bed did indeed have a flowery bedspread and my father did have one of those strips on… considering what _just happened_ , I’d say yes.”

“Uh… wow.”

“I don’t understand. You weren’t in a coma, or dead, and even if you had been… how did you end up where I was?!”

“Sorry, Cas, my spirit handbook got lost,” Dean snaps.

“I’m just thinking out loud, Dean!” Castiel barks back.

“Sorry, I know… I’m just… we both need to calm down.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

“Okay, well… if I’m going to spontaneously do ghost things… I’m glad I ended up with you in your tent, and not back at the school or something.”

Castiel is silent for a long moment. “I’m glad too, Dean. How do you feel?”

“I feel normal? I mean I’m tired, but it’s two in the morning.”

“How did you feel while you were… visiting me? You thought you were dreaming.”

“I guess it felt like it did when I was a ghost? At the time it felt familiar, but it didn’t make sense that I’d be a ghost, so I thought I was dreaming.”

“This is all very—” Castiel is interrupted by a car horn honking. He sighs. “I’m sorry, my father is waiting. We didn’t even pack up our things before leaving the campsite, I was in a hurry and severely agitated.”

Dean grins. “Good luck explaining all this to him.”

“I’ll think of… something.”

The car horn goes off again, and Dean hears Castiel let out an annoyed sigh before the call ends.

“You still suck at goodbyes,” Dean says, smiling at his phone.

  


***

  


“So, uh… something kind of weird happened last night.”

“Uh huh?”

Dean and Sam are sitting in the living room, watching an Indiana Jones marathon on cable and eating the tuna salad sandwiches that Dean just made.

“I uh… while I was asleep, I dreamed that I visited Cas in spirit form.”

“Mhm…”

Dean gets the sense that Sam’s not really paying attention.

“And I woke up because in the dream Cas yelled at me to wake up, but then I was still tired so I went back to sleep.”

“Yeah huh…”

“And then I woke up again a bit later because Cas called me, and it turns out it wasn’t a dream at all, my spirit actually left my body and went off to find Cas in New Mexico.”

Sam freezes, eyes widening comically. He picks the remote up off the arm of the couch and mutes the TV, turning to Dean. “What?” It comes out all garbled, because Sam is gross and there’s a mouthful of sandwich in the way.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one with manners?”

Sam glares, chewing with vigor until he can swallow his food. “Are you serious? Your spirit _left your body_ in search of your boyfriend?!”

“Yeah… really thought it had been a dream until Cas called making sure I hadn’t died or fallen into another coma or whatever.”

“Holy _shit,_ Dean! Okay, hold on.” Sam sets his sandwich down on the coffee table and bolts out of the living room and up the stairs, returning moments later with a white binder that has “DGS” written on the front in permanent marker.

“DGS?”

“Dean Ghost Stuff,” Sam says, sitting back on the couch.

Dean groans, because of _course_ Sam has a fucking binder for this. Sam flips through it, and Dean can see that there’s a ton of papers inside; some with hand-written notes, some look like pages printed from the internet, and some look like xeroxed pages from books. All of it is three hole punched to go in the binder, and a bunch of the pages are littered with multi-colored post-its with additional notes in Sam’s writing.

It’s been less than three weeks since Dean told Sam about the ghost thing, when the hell did he have time to do all this research?!

“Why do you… _why,_ ” Dean says, gesturing at the binder.

“You know how it is when school ends but you’re still kind of in Academic Mode and want to do work…”

“No, I don’t. That’s not a thing. You did this for… fun?”

“Research _is_ fun. Besides, I had been hoping to find an explanation for your situation, the answers you had for my questions a while back were interesting, but… inconclusive.”

Dean looks at the binder. “Did you find an explanation?”

“No, spirit lore is too broad a subject. It varies from culture to culture, and there’s so much _fiction_ in the way. I kept a lot of information that recurred in multiple cultures, but… I mean some of the stuff you mentioned fell in line with common ghost lore, at least.”

“Okay, like what?”

“Well for example, you said Cas experienced a drop in room temperature with you around?”

“Only twice. Once before I went apeshit on Alastair… the other time was when I…” Dean trails off, uncomfortable.

Sam is scribbling in his binder, and he pauses when he realizes Dean has stopped talking. “When you…?”

“When I saw Cas and Balthazar making out.”

Sam smirks.

“Sam, I swear to God,” Dean growls.

Sam doesn’t stop smirking, but he does look down back at his binder. “Fine, fine. Moving on. Ghosts being trapped in a certain area was another common thread. Sometimes the information talked about spirits being tethered to where they died… others mentioned spirits staying with their bodies… a few talked about spirits bound to objects.”

Dean nods, taking a bite of his sandwich while Sam continues.

“On the subject of Cas being able to see you… I mean lots of people claim to see spirits… mediums, for example… but I didn’t see anything about them being able to _touch_ a spirit.”

“Speaking of touching… what about what I did to the library?”

“Oh yeah, there’s some lore about spirits having telekinetic abilities… but mostly that was um… poltergeists.”

“Jesus.”

“And there’s no accounting for you creating a corporeal body for your spirit to beat the hell out of Alastair, when he’d never seen or felt you before.”

“Good times.”

“And there was definitely nothing about ghosts of _coma patients_. Brain dead people, sure, I found a few things… but you weren’t brain dead. Anyway, what happened last night, that falls into _this_ section…” Sam flips to a chunk of pages near the end of the binder. “This is stuff on astral projection.”

“Isn’t that like… New Age hippie bullshit?”

“It’s a very old concept, Dean, dating back thousands of years. Most of it doesn’t fit your experience; the corporeality, being trapped in the school, the _ghost powers_ … but the soul temporarily leaving its body while the body is unconscious… that’s a thing. Although… you went to a place you’ve never been before… on _accident._ ”

“Twice.”

“Twice?”

“I dreamed… I _thought_ I dreamed about Cas the night before last. I watched him sleep in his motel room. He just didn’t happen to wake up to tell me I wasn’t dreaming that time.”

Sam is flipping through pages again. “There are claims of people traveling to places they’ve never been before, but after months… _years_ of practice and meditation. And even then… I mean none of this has concrete proof, Dean. This could all be lies, dreams, and hallucinations,“ Sam says, gesturing at the binder. He sighs, closing the binder with a little frown, like something unfortunate is dawning on him. “The bottom line is… nothing really matches up with the lore enough to be of use.”

“Of… use?”

“As far as stopping it, controlling it, or even putting a _name_ to it.”

“Well if I’m the first one with this… condition, don’t I get to name it? We’ll call it… Winchester Syndrome. No. _Deanitis_!”

“Astral Projection With Ghost-Like Tendencies and Sporadic Corporeality.”

“I like Deanitis better. Although astral projection sounds pretty cool. Astral is a cool word.”

“So we’re calling it Astral Projection With Ghost-Like Tendencies and Sporadic Corporeality?”

“Dude, does it matter?”

“I can update the binder.”

God, Sam is such a fucking geek. “Okay, _anyway,_ what should we do about my Astral Projection With Ghost-Like Tendencies and S… uh… S…”

“Sporadic Corporeality?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… school’s out for summer, which makes this the perfect time for me to stay up all night watching you sleep.”

Dean grimaces. “Hard pass.”

“Come on, Dean! We can’t do anything about it other than learn what we can!”

“Sam, I’m not gonna be your guinea pig just because you miss being at school.”

“You’re not a guinea pig! I’m _studying_ you, not performing experiments.”

“Yet.”

Sam drops the binder in Dean’s lap. “Here, look through this. I’m going to go to the store and buy energy drinks for me, and maybe some Sleepytime Tea for you.”

“I didn’t agree to this, Sam.”

“Be back in a bit!”

  


***

  


“So you’re just going to sit here and watch me all night?”

“And take notes if anything happens.”

“That sounds so, so, boring.”

“I have my books.”

They’re sitting on Dean’s bed, both dressed for sleep. Dean’s bed is huge, so it’s not physically uncomfortable to have Sam, his binder, his phone, some books, and several cans of Red Bull on here with him, but it _is_ distracting. The Sleepytime Tea had done exactly nothing to make him ready to sleep, so Sam made him drink some Nyquil. Not a guinea pig, Dean’s ass.

“Do you know how hard it is to go to sleep when you’re _trying_ to sleep?!”

“That’s what the Nyquil was for.”

“Okay, but you have to stop staring at me until I fall asleep, for fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t, what if something important happens? Just close your eyes and pretend I’m not here, okay?”

“Pretend you’re not here… so I should jack off until I fall asleep?”

“Gross, Dean!”

  


***

  


Dean comes to in the tent, lying on his side next to a sleeping Castiel. Castiel is snoring, so softly it’s almost inaudible. Cute. Dean wonders if he should wake Castiel up or let him sleep. He’s probably had a long day. He shrugs and reaches out, poking Castiel on the nose.

“Cas, baby.”

Castiel opens his eyes slowly. He looks a little surprised to see Dean lying next to him, but he’s not at all panicked like he was last night.

“Hello, Dean.”

“I’m ba-aaack!” Dean says in a sing-song voice. “Hope you don’t mind, because… I can’t actually control this.”

“I’m just happy you’ve yet to appear while I’m urinating or something equally private.”

“Oh Jesus, Cas.”

“We’ve been through much together, but I don’t know if we’re ready for that level of intimacy.”

“Seeing you take a piss is intimacy?”

“In a way. A way that I’m not interested in experiencing.” Castiel pulls one of Dean’s hands to his lips, kissing it so gently Dean can’t feel it. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. A little freaked, I guess. I mean I never expected to be like _this_ again. Plus I’m uncomfortable knowing Sam’s watching my body. Like… right now.”

“He is?”

“He wanted to observe me to see if anything interesting happens. He’s got this whole binder full of shit about ghosts, spirit stuff, astral projection, and all my experiences.”

“Ah, astral projection. I did some reading on that once, ages ago. I’m not sure it applies to your unique situation.”

“Yeah, none of the lore seemed to really fit me. So Sam says I have… Astral Projection With Ghost-Like Tendencies and Sporadic Corporeality. I call it Deanitis.”

“Deanitis.”

“It’s not important. Anyway, so he’s on my bed taking notes or whatever. I can hear him, actually. He’s writing.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Oh Jesus, he just farted. God, this is _just_ like the coma.”

Castiel snickers. “That’s lovely.”

“Sam said since we don’t know what this is or how to stop it, we should at least learn about it. I think he’s just bored.”

“And you?”

“Me? I’m embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“It seems like… it seems like I missed you so much that I _astral projected_ to you.”

Castiel is quiet for a moment. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

“I have no idea. But I missed you when you’ve only been gone a handful of days, and… here I am.”

“I missed you too, you know. Quite a bit. In fact, had I the ability to create an astral body and transport it across state lines, I’m sure I’d be lurking in your bedroom right now.”

“That’s uh… sweet.”

“So, what shall we do now?” Dean’s eyes drift down towards Castiel’s crotch and Castiel glares. “ _No._ ”

“Are you saying you haven’t been missing my spooky ghost fingers?”

“My _father_ is in the next tent.”

“Sleeping like the dead. Or the comatose.”

“So if we were back at your place, with your father unconscious a few feet away… you’d want to ‘mess around’ as they say?”

“Ew, no.”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Dean concedes, “I see your point.”

“Besides, you said Sam is in your bed.”

“So? _I’m_ not in my bed. Not really.”

“What if you… um… got excited.”

Dean gets a disturbing image in his mind of Sam taking diligent notes while Dean is lying flat on his back with a prominent erection. “If I had astral tears, I would cry right now.”

  


***

  


They talk. Dean tells Castiel about how he’s pretty much decided to do the cooking classes for a change of pace if nothing else, and Castiel talks about camping with his father, and how the only supernatural encounter Castiel has had on this trip has been Dean showing up. Eventually, Castiel starts to drift back into unconsciousness, and then Dean’s watching him sleep again.

This is all so strange. Dean’s in the woods of New Mexico. He’s never even been to New Mexico before, maybe he should go look around or something. Then again, since Dean’s astral body has not come equipped with the ability to see in the dark, that might be sort of pointless.

Instead, Dean closes his eyes as well, and it feels like he’s going to sleep… again… which is sort of weird, since he’s already sleeping…

  


***

  


Dean opens his eyes slowly, wincing when he sees Sam peering at him. “ _Fuck,_ that’s creepy.”

“Hi!” Sam’s voice is so loud and chipper.

“Oh Jesus, how many of those Red Bulls did you drink?”

“Dunno! Some!” There are four open cans of Red Bull next to Dean’s alarm clock, which says it’s a quarter after eight in the morning. “I slept all night? And you stayed up the whole time?”

“I did! It was _hard,_ I always go to bed at a reasonable hour, Dean. But I got my second wind!”

“Um… okay. So did anything magic happen?”

Sam bursts into a hysterical fit of laughter for over a minute before calming down. Nobody comes to yell at them to keep it down, so Dean’s assuming his parents are gone.

“Nothing _magic,_ you didn’t float off your bed or anything,” Sam says, giggling. “There were some changes, though.” He holds up his binder, then flips to some pages near the end while Dean yawns and stretches. “So… you were pretty normal looking at first. You went through the usual stages of sleep, but when you reached stage three… which is deep sleep, you went… still. Like _freaky_ still. It creeped me out enough that I tried to shake you awake, but nothing happened, you didn’t respond at all. So I waited, watched, played Candy Crush on my phone…”

“And farted.”

“And… uh… you uh…. you heard that?”

“Yep. I could hear you scribbling away in the binder while I was talking to Cas, and then you just let one rip.”

Sam writes something in the binder, looking mildly embarrassed. “Uh, anyway, the creepy stillness lasted ninety-seven minutes, after which you resumed normal sleep patterns.”

“Huh.”

“How were things on your end? Did you uh… travel?”

“Travel, I like that. Yeah, I ‘woke up’ in Cas’ tent, we talked for an hour or so, then I watched him sleep… then I fell asleep. And then I had a dream that the Impala was the Knight Rider car, and you were the voice, and we ran over a squirrel and the squirrel’s family sued us. That’s probably not relevant, just wanted to share my weird dream.”

“Sued by a squirrel’s family… check. Well, we can assume the part where you went all still is when you left your body. How did you feel? Emotionally.”

“I felt okay. I mean… I knew what was happening this time, and I knew I’d come back… and I was with Cas.”

Sam nods. “That’s good. Man, I wish we could measure your brain activity…”

“No, Sam.”

“Well it’s not like I have the equipment anyway!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean reaches over and ruffles Sam’s hair. “Come on, I’m making us some food, and you need to get some sleep.”

  


***

  


Sam sleeps most of Monday away, finally emerging from his room when John comes home with dinner. When bedtime rolls around for Dean, Sam shows up in his room, holding his binder and two bottles of Pepsi.

“Uh… what are you doing?”

“Be reasonable, Dean, I can’t just observe you _one time_ and assume I’ve seen everything.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Why are you being so weird about this?”

“ _I’m_ being weird? You’re keeping terrible hours for a teenager, you know.”

“It’s summer! Now come on. It’s bed time for you.”

  


***

  


Dean comes to in Castiel’s tent, which is empty. He can hear the sound of a fire snapping, then Castiel’s voice.

“No, it’s been nice, I just… we haven’t done much researching, have we? A father and son camping trip won’t really be of interest to your blog readers.”

“Ah… no.” Chuck’s voice. He sounds nervous, but that happens a lot.

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Okay, the things is… I already got plenty of information for the website in the first few days.”

“So… we’ve been camping out here for three days for…”

“Bonding!”

“B-bonding? Father, if you want us to spend time together, you needn’t resort to deception.” God, Castiel talks so… formal sometimes. Dean has no idea where he gets that from, unless it’s from the brother Dean hasn’t met.

“If I’d told you I had everything I needed, you’d have begged me to take us home.”

Castiel sighs. “I suppose that’s true. I did want to go on this trip, I promise, but I also miss Dean. I apologize if that’s made you feel unwanted, Father.”

This whole conversation is very Cat’s in the Cradle, Dean feels guilty for sitting here listening.

“Hey, no, my feelings aren’t hurt. I guess I’m a bit worried about you, Cas, I wanted to spend some time with you, make sure everything’s… good.”

“Why wouldn’t everything be good?”

“You’ve made a lot of big changes recently.”

“I have?”

“Well, school’s ended, you’re about to start a full time job, you’ve got a uh… a serious relationship.” Dean can hear Chuck’s awkwardness and discomfort, it makes him cringe.

Several long seconds pass before Castiel replies. “You’re concerned about my relationship with Dean.”

Oh, fuck. Dean _really_ shouldn’t be listening to this. He should at least reveal his presence to Castiel. Any minute now he should.

“You haven’t known him all that long. It’s been what, less than two months?”

“I’ve known him longer than that,” Castiel says. He sounds irritated.

“In a _computer game,_ Cas.”

Dean rolls his eyes. The “we met in World of Warcraft” cover story tends to make people take them less seriously.

Castiel groans. “We didn’t… yes, fine. In a computer game. Our conversations were still real and important to me.”

“You’re putting off college.”

“For a year. To save money for off-campus housing.”

“Your mother and I offered to pay for that.”

Uh. Wow, that’s not what Castiel told Dean. Castiel said his parents couldn’t afford the extra expense, and that it was fine, because he’d get a job and save up, and it would be better to wait a year anyway so Dean could come with him.

“You’re already paying for my schooling,” Castiel says, “I want to take care of housing myself.”

“Well I do think that’s very mature of you. But I get the sense there’s another reason.”

There’s no response for a minute or two, long enough that Dean’s considering getting out of the tent, but then Castiel finally responds.

“I want Dean to see me as a man. Someone that can provide for him. Not a nerdy little kid that has his parents take care of everything. I love him, I want to make a home for him. And… and besides, you and mother were very young when you married.”

“Are you two thinking about getting m-m-m—”

“ _No._ But I thought… I thought you’d understand.”

Chuck laughs gently. “Do you think my parents shrugged and applauded when we got engaged at eighteen? No, they tried to talk me out of it.”

“So… you’re trying to talk me out of committing to Dean?”

“I’m just… making sure you’ve thought this all through.”

“Well, I have. If it doesn’t work out, then… then it doesn’t work out. But I intend to plan for the future that I want, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

Fuck.

Fuck, Dean’s so fucking in love with this idiot.

“Please don’t feel offended, Castiel,” Chuck pleads. “I just want to make sure you’re giving this enough consideration. You’re my son, and this is your future. You know I’m on your side no matter what, right?”

“Yes, Father.” Castiel’s voice is a lot closer now, and Dean feels weirdly nervous. The tent panel gets unzipped, and then Castiel is standing in front of the open flap, staring at Dean and looking startled. “Father,” Castiel says, not looking away from Dean, “do you think I could use your flashlight? I’d like to go for a walk, think about this.”

Chuck comes up next to Castiel, handing him a large flashlight. “Do you want to go home? We can pack up, get an early start, you could go see Dean.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’ll see Dean soon enough. I believe you and I have a few more days left of our vacation.”

  


***

  


They walk in silence for a couple of minutes. Dean keeps expecting to hit some invisible boundary, like when he was tethered to the school, but it doesn’t happen. It’s strange, walking through the woods barefoot and not feeling a thing.

Eventually Castiel stops walking, turning to face Dean. “How long were you there?”

“Uh… I got there around the part where you found out your dad had already finished with his research, I guess.”

Castiel sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. Dean can’t see Castiel’s face all that well; the flashlight is pointed at their feet, but he thinks Castiel looks pretty pissed.

“Dean,I understand that at present you can’t exactly control your… _manifestations,_ but you should have made your presence known to me.”

“I didn’t want to just interrupt you, and then the conversation got kind of… heavy.”

“This isn’t the school, where you listened to everyone’s private moments and it affected no one but you… we’re in a _relationship,_ Dean.”

“You’re just mad because now I know you’ve been _lying_ to me.”

Castiel lets out an irritated grunt. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Look. You’re right. You deserve privacy. Back at the school, I thought I’d be like that forever, I figured it didn’t matter who I listened to or what I heard. If I find myself in this situation again, I promise to do what I can to handle it better. I’m sorry.”

Castiel slumps slightly. “Thank you, Dean.”

“ _But…_ about what I overheard.”

“ _Dean._ ”

“I don’t see you as some… nerdy _kid,_ Cas. If I did or said something to make you feel that way, then I am so, so sorry.”

“You didn’t, I just…”

“I see you as a uh… you know. A peer. And someone I love. You don’t have to fucking _provide_ for me, Cas. We’re both still teenagers living with our parents, you know. All that matters is… I feel safe with you. Just you as you are. So please don’t try to be anything other than _you._ ”

“Well… what if who I am is still someone that wants to take this job and save money?”

“Then, cool. I’m on board. But please don’t ever think that you’re not enough for me, Cas. I made a magic body with my _mind_ just to spend more time with you. Isn’t that enough to prove that you’re… that I…”

“We don’t know that it’s magic, Dean.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas, I’m trying to tell you about my _feelings_.”

Dean sees a flash of a smile and then Castiel is rushing forward, kissing him hard. Dean kisses back eagerly, backing Castiel up until they’re up against a tree. He can’t feel it like he would if he were in his physical body, but it’s still good, because it’s still Castiel.

Dean pulls back. “It sucks that I can’t—”

“If you start talking about not having saliva, I swear to God, Dean.”

“I can’t really see you. I was going to say it sucks that it’s dark out, so I can’t really see you.”

“Oh.”

“I do wish I had saliva, though. Like, astral saliva.”

“Ugh.”

Dean grins, nipping at Castiel’s neck and reaching for his jeans.

“Dean, we’re outside… my father…”

“Is way, way over there, watching the fire and thinking about wendigos. I want to make you feel good, Cas. Can I?”

Castiel nods frantically against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean unzips Castiel’s pants, shoving them down enough to get his hand inside. He wraps a hand around Castiel’s rapidly hardening cock, grinning into the darkness when Castiel’s hips jerk forward and the flashlight drops to the ground. He pulls his hand free, holding it up near Castiel’s face.

“You know the drill, sweetheart.”

Castiel starts wetting Dean’s hand with his tongue, and _damn_ Dean wishes he were fully here to feel this.

“Alright Cas, now you gotta be quiet while I do this, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel mumbles, “yes.”

Castiel is fully hard when Dean grabs him again, and he lets out a soft, happy sigh when Dean’s spit-damp hand starts stroking him slowly.

“Dean…” Castiel mutters, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and pulling him close.

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean feels a low hum of excitement running through him, and he can feel his heart jump a little back in his body, but since he’s not hearing Sam squawk in embarrassed horror, he’s hoping maybe what he’s feeling here isn’t affecting his body beyond that.

“Wish you were here,” Castiel says, “I mean _here-_ here.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Dean bites at Castiel’s neck, thumb rubbing against the slick cockhead in his grasp.

“Want you.”

“Want me to what?”

Castiel whimpers, and Dean slows his strokes until his hand isn’t moving at all. “ _Dean_.”

“Come on… say what you’d want me to do and I’ll keep going.”

It’s wild the way sometimes Castiel is too shy to even say the word “cock”, as if he isn’t the same guy that once fucked Dean against a shower wall while muttering all _manner_ of filth in his ear.

“Dean… do I _have_ to.”

“Come on, baby. Wanna hear you say it.” With the flashlight on the ground Dean can’t see Castiel’s face at all, he has no idea if Castiel looks excited, or annoyed, or wrecked.

“I want you to fuck me, Dean,” Castiel whispers finally. “Like you did last time.”

Last time was well over two weeks ago. The problem was that before school was out Dean had _plenty_ of alone time during the day on weekdays, just him in a big, empty house, but that had also been when Castiel was busy at school. By the time Castiel was free, Sam and Mary were usually home. At Castiel’s, the house always seemed to have some combination of Castiel’s family milling about. But… on the day Castiel is referring to, Castiel had bailed on school in the middle of the day and showed up at Dean’s house _wanting,_ and that had been fun.

Dean resumes his strokes, but they’re slow and light, and he knows nothing close to what Castiel wants. “Hmm… having trouble remembering last time. Maybe you could remind me?”

Castiel groans, and Dean feels him leaning away slightly, back against the tree. “You’re cruel.”

“You’re stalling.”

“We were at your house.”

“Were we?”

“ _Yes._ It was lunch time, and instead of going to the cafeteria I decided to gather my things and bike to your house. You answered the door half awake, wearing a grey robe and those ugly orange monster slippers, and when you saw me at the door you smiled so big I thought my heart was going to _explode_ with how much I loved you.”

Dean goes still. “Cas…” Castiel clears his throat pointedly and Dean rolls his eyes, even though he knows Castiel can’t see it.

As soon as Dean’s hand resumes moving, Castiel starts talking again. “We went to your room, you fished a bottle of lube out from under your bed while I made fun of your slippers. Then you shoved me on the bed and started pulling my clothes off while I kept talking about how hard it was to take you seriously with your big fuzzy orange monster feet.”

“Hmmm, sounds familiar… keep going,” Dean says, stroking harder, tightening his grip on the upstroke.

Castiel sighs, squirming a little in Dean’s grip. “You got me on my hands and knees and fingered me open until I was begging you to fuck me. I felt so needy and desperate, but I kept on teasing you about your slippers because it was making you a little rougher with me and I liked it.”

“Interesting.”

“Then you fucked me with your damn ugly slippers on. It felt so good, Dean, you felt so hot and thick inside me, and I just wanted more, _harder_.” Castiel is holding onto Dean’s shoulders now, thrusting into his hand, panting hard. “You had my head held down, your hand was tight in my hair… I loved how it felt, Dean.”

Castiel is making these cute little whimpering noises and Dean loves them, but he wishes they were somewhere where Castiel could be louder. “You sound close,” he says smugly.

“I am, I just need… just need…”

Dean bites at Castiel’s neck, grinning around the mound of flesh when Castiel cries out, way too loudly and Dean can just barely feel the wetness splashing on his hand.

Then he hears Chuck’s voice. “Cas? You okay, buddy?”

Castiel starts cursing up a storm, grabbing the flashlight off the ground and shining it on himself, grumbling at the come on his shirt and pants. Dean smirks, reaching out to help Castiel get tucked back in his jeans.

“Cas?” Chuck’s voice is closer now.

“I’m coming!” Castiel yells in his father’s direction, smacking Dean’s arm when he starts snickering at the word choice. Castiel crouches down, grabbing a handful of dirt and dead leaves, smashing them against the mess on his clothes.

“Dude, what are you _doing_?”

“Masking the mess, obviously.”

“Oh. Smart.”

“I didn’t even get to savor it,” Castiel says, and Dean can just barely see him pouting.

Dean grins, licking his hand clean and idly wondering what exactly happens to substances his astral body ingests. “Told you to be quiet.”

  


***

  


When Dean wakes, Sam is studying his binder, pen tucked behind his ear.

“Mornin’.”

“Hey!” Sam chirps. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I have to pee.”

Dean goes to the bathroom and when he gets back, Sam is sipping on an almost-empty bottle of Pepsi.

“It’s interesting that you have to pee,” Sam says.

“I think having to pee when you wake up is pretty common.”

“No, I mean… your body seems to largely shut down when you’re travelling, I’m surprised you don’t pee yourself.”

“Jesus, _what_?!”

“Just a thought. Anyway, you went into deep, _deep_ sleep mode at about midnight, and stayed that way for one hundred minutes before resuming normal sleep cycles. I checked your pulse a few times during your projecting state, and while you were in your normal sleep state.

“How was it?”

“Normal… mostly. Definitely slower while you were ‘gone’, but nothing alarming. It was racing at one point, though. About half an hour after you projected, maybe longer.”

Oh, good God.

“Any other uh... symptoms?”

Like massive erections, for example.

“No, nothing else. Can you think of what you were doing at that point?”

“Uh… I don’t think it’s important.”

“Information is important! The more the better.”

“I just don’t think it’s gonna matter for your research.”

Sam has the pen in his hand, and he’s rapidly thumping it against a blank page in the binder, looking agitated. “Let me be the judge of that, jeez. Don’t be weird about this.”

“Okay, well. I was giving Cas a hand job and all the dirty talk got my heart racing a bit.”

The pen goes flying out of Sam’s hand as he loses his concentration, and he scrambles out of bed to get it. “That’s so, so gross, Dean!”

“You _insisted_ I tell you.”

“Well I didn’t think… I mean how does that even _work_?”

“Well, look at your notes. I can touch Cas, and I can touch things that he’s touching… and stuff that uh… comes out of—”

“ _Please_ stop talking.”

“ _Information is important!_ ” Dean says, mocking Sam’s voice.

  


***

  


Dean feels a little less lonely after his rather intimate encounter with Castiel.

All of his worries about not being a good enough provider for Castiel have faded into the background with the newfound knowledge that Castiel is in the _exact_ same situation. They’re on equal footing, both excited and nervous about the future, both just wanting to make the other happy if they can. It feels damn good to know that they’re on the same page.

He’s not sad or disappointed when he doesn’t wake up in Castiel’s tent again for the rest of the week, he just wishes he could get Sam to stop coming into his room every night to watch him sleep.

END

 

 


End file.
